


a remedy for this

by harperuth



Series: i met you in the summer [9]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Hand & Finger Kink, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Squirting, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Wet & Messy, valve slapping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:08:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26039977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harperuth/pseuds/harperuth
Summary: Rodimus kept trying to squirm against his hold. Ratchet didn’t move. He watched the bits of Rodimus’s face that he could see pink up with rushing energon. Oh, this was bound to be good.“You want something?” Ratchet drawled. He didn’t move his digits, no matter how enticing the clutch release of Rodimus’s valve was around them. He knew what Rodimus looked like when he wanted something but didn’t know how to ask.
Relationships: Ratchet/Rodimus | Rodimus Prime
Series: i met you in the summer [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1828810
Comments: 16
Kudos: 110





	a remedy for this

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EatYourSparkOut](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EatYourSparkOut/gifts).



> for the prompt 'valve slapping' with ratchet/rodimus
> 
> title from 'being bored' by the films, aka the best rodimus song in existence

“Shut up, shut up, shut up,” Rodimus hissed.

Ratchet pulled back, passing the broad swath of his glossa over Rodimus’s anterior node as he went, “I didn’t say anything.”

Rodimus groaned, trying to flex his hips. They didn’t move under the bar Ratchet’s arm made. His valve flexed around Ratchet’s digits. Ratchet watched another pulse of thick lubricant ooze past his digits, “Messy boy.”

“Shut uuuup,” Rodimus whined. Ratchet watched what he could see of his face; Rodimus had thrown both his servos over his optics, like not seeing would somehow belay the fact that his valve was being cleaned as thoroughly as Ratchet was able.

It was pretty fucking thorough.

Not that Rodimus wasn’t putting up a pretty good fight against this being a clean endeavour. Ratchet wasn’t sure he’d ever fragged a mech that lubricated this much. There was something unbelievably...Rodimus about it.

Wasn’t not hot though.

Rodimus kept trying to squirm against his hold. Ratchet didn’t move. He watched the bits of Rodimus’s face that he could see pink up with rushing energon. Oh, this was bound to be good.

“You want something?” Ratchet drawled. He didn’t move his digits, no matter how enticing the clutch release of Rodimus’s valve was around them. He knew what Rodimus looked like when he wanted something but didn’t know how to ask.

Rodimus peeked through his digits and groaned, “Slagging...frag. Your face—”

Ratchet waited until Rodimus looked at him again and licked his lips, just to make Rodimus groan again. He smirked, “My face.”

“I hate you,” Rodimus said, a direct contradiction to just how tightly his valve was clutching Ratchet’s digits.

“Was there something you wanted?” Ratchet asked. Maybe he’d need to coax it out. It didn’t happen often, Rodimus was more than happy to eventually confess his wants, but there were the times that something like shame managed to touch his processor for once in his existence. 

“Um—” Rodimus looked thoroughly caught out. Ratchet raised an optical ridge. Rodimus buried his face behind his servos once more.

Ratchet sighed, a bad habit he’d been trying to kick. It was too telling. He waited once more for Rodimus to look at him, despite the way that the twitching of his valve was starting to run from his digits through his frame, zinging him with charge, “Either shit or get off the pot, brat.”

“Primus,” Rodimus frowned, levering himself up onto his elbows, “That’s disgusting Ratch, what the frag?”

Did the job getting his servos off his face.

Ratchet twisted his digits, pressing at an oddly placed node cluster that never failed to make Rodimus shiver. It worked, as usual, Rodimus’s optics unfocusing and his plating flaring open. Ratchet hummed, palpating the nodes a few more times until Rodimus was shivering on the edge of overload, “Whaddya want, brat? Just ask.”

“Oh frag,” Rodimus groaned weakly, hips pressing ineffectually against Ratchet’s arm bar, “It’s— S’weird.”

“Pretty good with weird,” Ratchet reasoned, twisting his digits back to less sensitive areas. Rodimus whined. Ratchet chuckled, “Just spit it out.”

Rodimus mumbled something he couldn’t quite catch. Ratchet withdrew his digits and pressed back in with only one, “What was that?”

“Ratchet,” Rodimus whined.

“Tell me,” Ratchet singsonged, “Or I’ll stick my digits in your aft instead.”

Rodimus let his helm drop back. Ratchet opticked the long line of his intake. Rodimus _could_ overload when his aft was played with, but it took a _while_ and clearly wasn’t as good. Ratchet wasn’t above playing dirty. The tight squeeze of his port was more than enough for Ratchet’s digital feedback.

“You suck,” Rodimus dropped back onto his back.

“Not until you tell me,” Ratchet pressed Rodimus harder into the berth, “Might as well just give it up, Roddy.”

“Primus, don’t call me that,” Rodimus frowned. Ratchet snickered. Rodimus threw his servos up into the air at nothing, “Frag! Fine! I was watching organic porn.”

“Is that all?” Ratchet raised an optical ridge, but rewarded the admission with a thumb over Rodimus’s anterior node, “Because I hate to break it to you Rodimus, but that’s chicken shit.”

“I can’t stand the way you talk,” Rodimus propped back up again, frown still on his face. Ratchet all out laughed at him.

“And yet, you frag me,” Ratchet let his thumb slip slide over Rodimus’s node, watching the quiver in his plating he was clearly trying to hard to hide. Like Ratchet couldn’t feel the charge snapping from his nodes. 

“Primus knows why,” Rodimus muttered. Ratchet dropped his helm and sucked Rodimus’s node into his mouth, running his glossa over it until Rodimus cried out.

“Primus has nothing to do with it,” Ratchet smirked as he pulled back.

“I _hate_ you,” Rodimus groaned.

“Tell me about your organic porn, Rodimus,” Ratchet licked over his node again.

“ _Hate_ ,” Rodimus stressed, “It was, um— Humans.”

“Okay,” Ratchet allowed. He waited for Rodimus to say anything more and when he didn’t, “Tame shit, then.”

“Shut _up_ ,” Rodimus groaned, valve clenching against Ratchet’s digits, “What does that even mean?”

“It means exactly what I said,” Ratchet said, “Human porn. What were they doing?”

“Um, it was—” Rodimus bit his lip, valve calipers rolling tellingly. Ratchet withdrew his digits and Rodimus let out a huff of frustration.

“No overloading until you tell me,” Ratchet scolded. Rodimus’s hips twitched up, clearly desperate for any stimulation on his array.

“Two girls!” Rodimus yelped. He clearly cut himself off, staring at Ratchet with wide, bright optics. 

“Okay?” Ratchet raised an optical ridge. 

“I hate you so much,” Rodimus hissed, “One day I’m gonna find something you feel weird about and I’m going to press that button endlessly.”

“Good luck,” Ratchet snorted, “Now tell me about your girls.”

“Ugh,” Rodimus pushed himself up so he was fully sitting. Ratchet pulled himself up to sit across from him, licking Rodimus’s lubricant from his digits. Rodimus stared at him, “Hate you. Whatever. Primus. It was, uh—”

He stopped talking, but Ratchet’s comm pinged after a moment. Ratchet raised both optical ridges at him and opened the file transfer. He watched the video with only the vaguest interest, until—

“Oh,” Ratchet tilted his head, trying to get a new view. The problem with organic, and particularly human porn, static angles, “You want that? Giving or receiving?”

“Receiving,” Rodimus squeaked out, face glowing with rushing energon.

“Okay, lay back,” Ratchet pressed his servos to Rodimus’s chest, pressing until he went. He trailed his digits down Rodimus’s abdominal plating, pressing into the gaps in his hip joints until Rodimus hissed, “Yeah, that’s it, brat.”

“Shut up,” Rodimus muttered.

“You want me to smack your valve, or not?” Ratchet gave him the flinty medbay glare, gratified when Rodimus’s vents quickened audibly, “That’s what I thought.”

Ratchet ran the video back through his processor quickly, making sure he had the idea right. He pressed a servo down on Rodimus’s lower abdominal plating, drawing the digits of his other servo through the lubricant still steadily drooling from Rodimus’s valve, “So _messy_. Messy boy.”

He drew his digits back and brought them down softly on Rodimus’s node. Not quite a stinging slap, but enough to register as impact. Rodimus jolted, not away, but _into_ the contact. Ratchet paused for a moment, flexing his digits. 

Alright.

Ratchet worked himself up to a continuous rhythm. His digits landed on and around Rodimus’s node. Rodimus grew louder and louder with each hit, and Ratchet was shocked to find that each impact jolted through his digits, his servos, and built charge through his frame. Each time he landed square on Rodimus’s node they both jolted.

Ratchet was so distracted by the unexpected feedback that he missed all the signs of Rodimus approaching overload. One nanoklik he was watching the twitching mesh of Rodimus’s valve ripple with impact, and the next it was contracted familiarly.

Ratchet was practiced enough that he didn’t stop his motions, slapping Rodimus’s node through it, but even he raised optical ridges at the stream of lubricant that gushed from Rodimus. It soaked the berth beneath him, working its way into the finer joints of his wrist. Rodimus moaned beneath him, hips working up into each impact until his valve finally stopped spilling lubricant.

Ratchet let his digits rest against his node once Rodimus started twisting away from the touch, “Well shit, brat.”

“Frag,” Rodimus gasped out. His vocalizer sounded like the last time he’d come into the medbay with a spike sucking injury. Ratchet smirked, charge still singing through his frame.

“Think you can make it that good for me?” He mused, lifting his servo to his mouth and licking a stripe up his palm.

He bore Rodimus tackling him back on to the berth with good grace. He was fairly certain he’d get his due the moment Rodimus sucked three of his digits into his mouth at once. Ratchet let his helm fall back with a small moan, “Yeah okay, Roddy.”

He felt more than heard Rodimus snarl around his digits, “ _Shut up_.”

**Author's Note:**

> i'm taking summer heat prompts on twitter [@robopunkcfb](https://twitter.com/robopunkcfb)


End file.
